


draw deep and pull

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fisting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Butt Plugs, Clothed Sex, Creampie, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gym Rat Keith (Voltron), Jock Straps, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Seriously this is just over 9000 words of domestic ass wrecking, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lance wins a bet and gets to decide what they do for their afternoon off.“So this is your fantasy, huh?" Keith says. "Me in my gym clothes?”





	draw deep and pull

 

Keith doesn’t bother getting dressed after showering. 

The terms of the bet were clear – the loser has to do whatever the winner wants for their shared afternoon off – and Lance won fair and square.  His boyfriend hadn’t divulged many details of what he has in mind yet, but he’d been handsy all morning, groping his ass at every opportunity, and as soon as 1:00 pm had hit he’d clapped his hands together and told Keith to go take a shower with explicit instructions to clean up thoroughly “down there”.

(Quotes Lance’s. Like, he literally made finger quotes when he said it.  This is the man Keith has decided he’s in love with. Keith rolls his eyes fondly.)

Anyway, Keith is confident that whatever’s going down is something new Lance wants to try in bed, so there’s no point, right? Anything he puts on is just going to come right off anyway.

He comes out of their bathroom, still ruffling at his damp hair with a towel, to find Lance busy at the desk in their room. All the books and phone cords and the lopsided handmade mug they keep pens in have been cleared off and it’s covered in a towel.  Lance is meticulously arranging lube and toys like he’s laying out a place setting for an extravagant dinner.

“Wow,” says Keith, tossing his hair towel in the hamper. “Fancy.”

“The fanciest.” Grinning, Lance sets down the last toy he’s wiping off and comes over, looping his arms around Keith's waist and pecking him on the lips.  Keith returns it with interest, flushing pleasantly over being completely naked while Lance is fully dressed in his lazy Saturday clothes. Lance indulges him in a deep, generous kiss, then pulls away far too soon. "Go ahead and get dressed."

"What?" Keith says, baffled.  He eyes the desk like it’s a sundae bar on a sweltering day, and asks reluctantly, “Are we…going out somewhere?”

“You know, the terms were that you had to do whatever I want, _without_ complaining about it,” Lance teases.  “Don’t worry, hermit crab, we're staying right here. We'll get naked later – ” Lance waggles his eyebrows, “ - but I've always wanted to do it this way! There’s clothes on the bed. Go on, go!”

Keith goes, urged on by Lance’s flapping hands and smack on the ass. It must be some kind of sexy costume, then. He examines the folded pile with trepidation, half expecting to find a tiny maid outfit or something. 

It’s just a pair of his yoga pants and a soft, well-fitted black t-shirt.

And a jock strap.

It isn’t the plain, practical white kind he used to wear playing rugby - it's black and bright red, with a mesh front. A warm little twist of affection curls through his belly, tugging the corners of his lips up. “So this is your fantasy, huh? Me in my gym clothes?”

“Mmm, babe, you have no idea.” Lance sits backward on the desk chair. “Those pants have slain me a million times. The second best thing about your fitness bro lifestyle is watching you leave for morning power yoga.”

Shaking his head fondly, Keith picks up the jock strap and lifts a foot to start pulling it on.  He pauses. Lance is watching him lazily, chin propped on one hand. On second thought, he tosses a sideways smile at his boyfriend, turns his back to him, and bends over til his knuckles can brush the floor. Lance whistles as he steps daintily into the loops.

“Yeah baby, show it off!” he calls, laughing delightedly.

Keith spreads his feet a little and rolls his spine up like he’s in yoga class. Dragging up the bright red underwear, dragging out the process of getting it in place: taking longer than necessary to adjust the bands in the back so they cup the undercurve of his ass, openly fondling himself as he tugs and smooths the mesh around his junk.

Under the heat of those eyes, though, he can’t keep it up.  The rest of the ensemble is yanked on quickly so he can hurry back to Lance, who stands to intercept him.

Lance catches him by the face, curling his fingers around his jaw and tilting him into a kiss. Keith snickers against his mouth as Lance's hands gravitate to his ass as though magnetized and slip under the yoga pants.

“Really, Lance?” he says, leaning back to meet his sparkling eyes. “You _sure_ you want the pants on?”

“Sticking my hands down your pants is half the fun,” Lance says cheerfully.

Keith turns in his arms to survey the table.  “So what's the game plan?” There’s a package of wet wipes, a half-full bottle of lube. There's also a brand new tub of thicker gel lubricant, a set of three black silicon plugs of different sizes, and, holy shit. Latex gloves and a ribbed dildo as big around as his wrist. An electric tingle of anticipation zings through his core. 

“Did I lose my memories of winning this bet?  Because it looks to me like I’m getting the reward anyway. Am I just gonna sit back and relax while you do all the work for once?”

“Oh, don't worry,” Lance says. His gaze goes heavy with intent, boring right through him. “You'll work, babe.”

“Yeah? So what are we doing?”

Lance tells him.

Keith’s eyes go wide.

“You ok with this?” he asks, blue eyes searching and a worried crease printing between them. “I know we said you have to do whatever I say, but this is…I totally get it if you don’t want to. I don’t want to try it unless you’re into it.  And you can change your mind at any point! If it hurts, or it’s too much, or –”

A finger to his lips cuts him off.

“Lance,” Keith says, pressing close and kissing him again, hard. “It sounds _awesome_.”

Lance beams.

“ _Hell_ yes.”

* * *

 

Lance is so excited that Keith is willing - heck, _eager_ \- to go along with this.  His boyfriend has a booty that just won't quit and he can't wait to put it through its paces.  Not that he hasn't given it a ride in the time they've been together so far! But today...Lance can't help but rub his hands together gleefully as Keith steps up the desk and bends over it, planting his elbows, at his direction.

“You look like a comic book villain when you do that,” Keith says flatly.

“Muahaha, I'm here to plunder your vault!” he cackles in his best villain impression, pulling up the desk chair and taking a seat.

“Never use that voice during sex, ever again.”

“Shoosh, you, we’re doing whatever I want today, remember?” Keith can play _tsundere_ all he wants. Lance knows what's up. He sees that fond little corner of his smile.  “You want a pillow for your arms?”

“I’m good, thanks.” That magnificent rump wiggles a bit.

“’k, just let me know if you need to move.” Lance stretches the yoga pants – _oh, glorious yoga pants, blessed are we for your invention_ – over Keith's ass and rolls them down a little. He takes a moment to sit back and admire the way he looks, mostly dressed with his cheeks and upper thighs exposed, the black and red bands of the jock strap framing and plumping him. Lance sighs appreciatively. “This is the _first_ best part of your gym bro thing,” Lance declares, cupping each hand around a well-muscled cheek and squeezing a little. “That sweet, sweet bubble butt.”

“It's not a _bubble butt_ ,” Keith scoffs.

“You, sadly, were born stuck permanently facing the other way, so you clearly don't know what you’re talking about. I, on the other hand, have spent long hours devoting my expert analysis skills to examining this exquisite specimen from every angle.” Lance kneads it for a moment, earning a little groan from Keith when he digs his thumbs into dense muscle. He makes a mental note to see if he wants a proper massage after his workout sometime. “How do you even get it in this kind of shape?”

“Lots of squats, bridges, and deadlifts.”

“I could do a million squats and I wouldn't have this ass,” Lance complains. He toys with the straps, tugging one and letting it snap back to watch the jiggle.

“I like your butt the way it is,” Keith says. “It fits perfectly in my hands. More than that is overkill.”

“Don't start with me with that heresy, Kogane. I could die happy suffocating in your luscious quadruple scoop booty.”

“Oh my god.” Keith collapses into his crossed arms, snorting with laughter. “Stop. We're going to be here all day without you ever even touching – _oh_!”

Lance pulls his cheeks apart and gives a long, dragging lick right over his hole.  When he jolts at the touch, Lance grabs the jock strap to hold him in place, using his thumbs to keep him parted and that pink furl exposed.

“Buckle in, babe, we're starting this marathon,” he says, and dives back in.

This is one of his favorite things to do in bed. In part because he was being completely serious earlier – buried in this bodacious bottom is one of the best places in the world to be.

The other part is that Keith has struggled with being vocal during sex. The first time they’d gotten each other off Lance spent the whole time humiliatingly afraid his boyfriend was barely affected by his touches right up until Keith stunned him by coming into his hand, silent except for a long, shuddering exhale into his shoulder. Since then, after a lot of experience and a _lot_ of awkward conversations about both of their histories and hang-ups, Keith has lost a lot of his self-consciousness about letting on when he feels good.

But, oh. Rimming is the one thing he’s never been able to keep his voice bottled up for, pleasure outstripping his embarrassment. The first time Lance did _this_ for him Lance himself had come within seconds of finally touching himself just from how hot it was listening to Keith fall apart. Little _ah_ 's and sharp cries, whenever he sucks the rim hard or sticks his tongue in and curls it; pleased sighs when he pulls back to kiss it languidly, laughing huffs when he tickles the crinkled ring with the tip of his tongue.  A shriek, when Lance blows a raspberry into the inner curve of one cheek, and he reaches back to bat weakly at his head.

After teasing him and working him up to his heart’s content, Lance settles into a rhythm with short, firm licks, pushing in.  Keith moans, rocking back against him like he's getting fucked. Heat thrills through Lance, anticipation at doing just that. He adds a couple lubed fingers to the mix, licking around them sloppily, sucking a wet kiss into the top of his cleft. Before long he’s stretching him open, scissoring and stretching gently against the resistance of that tight ring.

“Come on, I’m ready,” Keith finally grits. “Fuck me!”

Lance smiles against his cheek as he continues thrusting with slick fingers.  “Not your day to call the shots, babe.”

“You were gonna anyway!” he whines.  Spreads his legs what little more he can with the yoga pants halfway down his thighs, pushing the arch of his back to pop his ass up temptingly. “Come on, Lance, _please_ , feels so good, I want you so bad–”

Yeah, he’s gotten a _lot_ better about voicing his desire. Christ. He’s got Lance wrapped around his little finger.

“You’re a menace, Kogane.” The chair screeches as Lance shoves back, pushing his sweatpants down just far enough and slicking lube generously over his cock, hips twitching. Shit, it feels amazing to finally touch his cock. He teases Keith’s crease with the tip, swirling it around his rim for a second before pulling his hole open with one thumb and notching his cockhead against it. “Bossy even when you’re bent over gagging for it. Ready?”

In reply Keith grinds backward, earning a couple inches of dick for his trouble. Twin moans ring out.

“Ahh, you’re still so tight…” Then Lance huffs a laugh, thrilling in the anticipation of later. “For now, anyway. Gonna open you up, sweetheart.”

“Mm _hmm_ ,” Keith responds, arching his spine up and down a few times, self-satisfied.

Brat.

Lance pulls back a little and pulses his hips slowly, thrusting in further each time, pausing occasionally to add more lube, until his hips are flush.  His boyfriend breathes a minute, shifting on his feet slightly, then lifts back up to his elbows and starts pushing back against him.

“That’s it, babe, you feel so good,” Lance says, and gets down to fucking him properly.  The jock strap was a genius idea, he congratulates himself. It makes a great handle, with the straps twisted in his fists, letting him yank Keith back to meet his thrusts. And the dark bands are a perfect frame for the sight of his cock pistoning in and out of that slick, flushed hole. Practical _and_ stylish. He’ll definitely need to make sure Keith wears this again sometime during sex. Or maybe just any random day. It’s underwear, right? He could buy him a pair for every day of the week.  “I can’t decide if you feel better or look better, your ass is amazing.”

Lance can see the tops of his ears turning bright red through his swinging hair, but Keith still manages to stammer out, “Yeah, you feel so good – I like – I like the strap – I like you shoving me around with it –”

“I’ll get you fifty of ‘em,” Lance promises, pounding him faster and harder, balls slapping, rhythm marked by the towel-muffled drumbeat of the desk knocking against the wall. He hopes their neighbors are out for the day, but he won’t slow down on their account. He pounds til Keith has to brace a hand against the wall to rut back against him.

Pleasure spirals through him like ribbons of fire; he’s getting close. Lance leans forward to spoon against Keith’s back, planting one hand on the towel-covered desk to balance and reaching for his mesh-wrapped erection.

“Wait,” Keith gasps, hair flying as he tosses his head back. “I wanna wait.”

“You can come, babe,” Lance murmurs into his ear, lips brushing the shell of it. He slows, sliding his hand up under the shirt instead and pressing deep and close in a hard, dirty grind. “This is going to take a couple hours.”

“I know,” Keith says, strained, “but I don't wanna come yet. I will if you tell me to but – I wanna wait til we try it. Please?”

Lance moans at that, at the thought of Keith on edge all afternoon while they stretch him, strung out and desperate. He loves that about Keith, how despite all his impulsiveness, there’s that deep well of long-suffering endurance he brings to bear when he's decided it's worth it; how he's willing to dig in and wait for the things he really wants.

How he was willing to wait for Lance, through nearly two years of confusion and bullshit and posturing.

“Ok. Ok, I’ll let you wait.”

Keith laughs breathlessly and grinds back hard, clenching around him. “Come on Lance, I know you're close, I can feel your legs shaking. Come on, come, come inside me, fill me up.”

And he does, hips jerking, hugging his boyfriend to him with a hand on his chest, nuzzling his nape.  Lightning bursts behind his eyes, the rush like the first steep drop of a roller coaster.  Keith lets out a drawn-out moan at the feeling of Lance’s cock throbbing against his rim, shooting deep. 

Lance sighs contentedly as he comes down from the high, nuzzling the hair at the back of Keith’s neck.  The other man is taking deep, measured breaths, asshole shivering around his base, shoulders taut as a drawn wire.

“You absolutely sure you don't want to come?”

“Yeah, no, no. I’m gonna wait,” Keith whispers back.

“Ok. I’ll hold you to that, then.”

It’s kind of perfect, really. Fits the theme. Lance kisses behind his ear, grinding his softening cock into the squelchy hot mess of his sloppy hole.  “Hand me the first one, babe.”

Keith rocks to one elbow, fumbling for the smallest plug.  Lance peels away from his back and takes the toy Keith presses into his hand. With care he pulls out, slotting the little black plug smoothly into place as soon as his dick slips free, before his cum can drip out.  Lance tucks himself back in and collapses into the chair, getting a nice, juicy eyeful of the little stem now nestled in that peachy butt. Hot damn.

Keith stands up straight, shaking his hips a little as he adjusts to the feel of the plug, and Lance can't help but reach out to hug him around the waist, nosing under his shirt to kiss the small of his back. Keith hums, turning at the waist a little to card his fingers through his hair, then raising his arms in a full-body stretch. 

Then he cracks his neck with a satisfied sigh.

“Gross,” Lance mumbles into his spine, feeling more than hearing Keith's shaking laughter as he cracks it again on the other side.

“Double gross!” Lance lets him go with playful snap of the jock strap, making Keith yelp. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit.”

He wipes away the excess lube with wet wipes then pats him dry. Pats a little extra to watch his rump jiggle.  When he turns him around again the sheer mesh does absolutely nothing to hide Keith’s erection, stretching easily and highlighting his cock and plump sack in bull-taunting red. Lance can't resist giving the head a little lick through the fabric and laughing when Keith jumps, pushing him away.

“Later!”

Lance smiles up at him. “Alright. Let’s watch a movie or something for now.” He tugs the yoga pants back into place. Thinking about Keith carrying his semen around in that plush ass while they lounge around their apartment makes his cock twitch in a valiant effort to harden again.  Lance pokes teasingly at the hard knob between his cheeks.  “Wanna get some snacks while I clean up real quick?”

* * *

 

Keith stares into the open freezer, debating. There’s already popcorn in the microwave but he’s actually pretty hungry and pizza rolls sound amazing.  He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, gingerly adjusts himself.  It's hard to think about anything else, even something as straightforward as movie snacks, when he's so aware of his own asshole - the slight wetness of lingering lube, the weight of the plug, the indescribable feeling of being held open.  The way his seat still feels exposed, lifted by the jock strap and hugged by spandex where he usually wears boxer briefs underneath.  The dirty thrill of having a load plugged up his ass.

And he's still half hard, there's that.

The shower squeaks as it shuts off. He wiggles a little with anticipation. If Lance is showering in the middle of this it's because he wants Keith to go down on him later, and Keith is happy to oblige. The mental image of being stuffed full on both ends with Lance’s hands in his hair makes him shiver.

Although part of it could be that he’s staring glazedly at a box of pizza rolls while all the cold air billows out of the freezer.

Keith grabs the box.

A few minutes later he hears Lance moving around the living room, the hum of the tv turning on. Keith pulls the scalding bag of popcorn from the microwave and swaps in the pizza rolls.

Done with his set up, Lance comes up behind him for a hug, fitting his hips to his ass. The warm bundle of his junk nestles against his cleft, and Keith _burns_.

“What are we watching?” Keith asks. He doesn’t really care, but he needs the distraction of literally anything that’s not his dick. Or his hole. Or Lance’s dick. Or any combination of those.

“Probably just reruns,” Lance admits, hooking his chin on his shoulder. He waggles his eyebrows when Keith turns his head to look at him. “I mean, I’m going to have another show on, so...”

 “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lance says, eyes twinkling with amusement.  He slides a warm, broad hand up his chest, up the line of his throat.  “You gonna finish with these snacks or what?”

“You gonna let me move?”

“Nope,” Lance says brightly.

Keith exhales a laugh, tipping his head back a little as Lance cups his jaw. “Ok then.”

A warm thumb sweeps over his bottom lip as he pulls down the popcorn bowl from the cupboard. It slips into his mouth and he rips the bag open too hard, scattering kernels across the counter.  He just manages to dump most of it in the bowl before Lance presses down on his tongue and grinds against him.

Christ. He’s never going to be able to get popcorn at a movie again without thinking about this.

The microwave beeps shrilly.  “Shou’ ge’ ‘a,” he garbles around Lance’s thumb, hips tipping back without his conscious direction.

“Safety first, Keith! You know you’re supposed to let them sit a minute before you take them out so you don’t burn all your fingers off.”  His thumb is replaced with two fingers. “Suck.”

Moaning, Keith obeys. This afternoon is going to take an eternity, he thinks wildly. Lance is always attractive, obviously, but it really gets to him when he takes charge and pushes him around a little.  Keith is fully hard again, but Lance, of course, is still soft after coming – Keith is braced against the counter and thrumming with arousal, while Lance casually fucks his mouth with his fingers and rolls against him like he has all the time in the world. Keith is totally into this and Lance is – Lance is dropping his hand and stepping away, what the fuck.

Keith collapses against the counter.  “What the _fuuuck_.”

“Hey, you could have come earlier, and you didn’t want to! So now you get to wait!” Lance chirps, pulling out the pizza rolls. “You didn’t think I was going to go easy on you, did you?”

“Why do I think it’s hot when you’re mean,” Keith grumbles.

“Mean? _Moi_?” Lance puts an affronted hand to his chest. “I’m just giving you exactly what you asked for, sweetcheeks.”

Keith smiles privately to himself, face buried in his arms. As torturous as it is, he revels in the anticipation. He wants to feel everything clear and in focus, and not already be worn out later. Honestly, Lance is too good for him.

The liquid lube, the remaining plugs, and that monster dildo are on the coffee table, more towels tossed over the back of the couch.  Keith brings the snacks and a couple beers in and curls up under Lance’s arm.

It’s, you know, nice. Snuggling his boyfriend… Making fun of stupid tv and scarfing down cheat day junk together…

Getting repeatedly distracted by the light of the tv flashing on that row of sex toys. _Arrgh_.

They’re almost through an entire episode Star Trek reruns before Lance pats his own thigh. “Alright. Come lie down where I can work on you.”

 _Finally_.

Keith practically dives, stretching out belly-down and ass-up across Lance’s lap. With a cushion tucked under his chest and his bare feet hooked over the arm of the couch, he settles in to get spoiled.

Lance strokes his ass and upper thighs like he’s petting a fucking cat, fingers occasionally playing at the edge where his thigh is squeezed by the elastic of the jock strap. Keith simmers at a comfortable level of arousal, half watching the show and half zoned out. The moment shatters when Lance sticks the cold side of his beer bottle against the crack of his ass, stroking down into the crossroads where his cleft ends and the gap between his thighs begins, ice cold even through the spandex of his pants. Keith screeches at the initial shock then keens, spreading his legs against the contact. Lance laughs, throws back the rest of the bottle, and sets it down with a hard clink.

“Asshole.”

“Maybe a _little_. Speaking of, lift up so I can pull your pants down and look at yours.”

Lance was definitely onto something after all with this getup. It’s inexplicably hotter, dirtier, to have Lance playing around with such an intimate part of him when he's still mostly dressed, just his ass out for Lance's convenience.

He grunts into the crook of his elbow as Lance presses a finger to the flared end of the plug, stirring it in a little circle before gripping the base of the plug.  A groan draws out of him like Lance is somehow pulling his voice with it. He’s left open and empty for a moment, then it returns, slicked with new coat of lube. Keith summons all the willpower he has to keep himself still and not rut as Lance nonchalantly plunges the toy in and out of him, a little nudge that just leaves him aching for more.

“Come on Lance, please, I'm ready for the next one.”

“A fine choice, sir,” Lance says in his snootiest waiter impression, leaning over him to snag the next largest plug off the table. “I think you'll be quite happy with it!”

Keith feels a dribble down his taint when he slips out the first one, wonders headily if it's all lube or if some of Lance's cum is oozing out. It must be the latter, because Lance's thumb sweeps over his skin and pushes it back in, followed quickly by the cool press of the next plug against his sensitized hole.

Keith gives up on pretending to watch the tv entirely as Lance resumes.  It’s the same slow, steady rhythm, but the bulb is larger, longer, feels a little more like actually being fucked, and he can hear the lube and cum squelching wetly now.  Lance is hardening again against the crease of Keith’s hip, and he himself is so hard he's almost dizzy, cock stretching the precome-soaked mesh and tapping lightly against Lance's thigh as he’s rocked lightly back and forth. His entire body from navel to knees is on fire, sparking at each light brush of his dick against Lance's leg, and he – he –

Keith launches up to his hands and knees, tense all over. He's so, so close, teetering like he's on a tightrope. “Lance, wait,” he manages. “Wait a sec.”

Lance stops immediately, letting the plug settle inside him, hand coming to rest on his thigh. “You ok? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Keith pants. “No. I just – I almost came. Gimme a sec.”

“Take all the time you need.  You're doing great, babe.”

“Heh.” Keith clenches and unclenches his quads a few times, trying to will his arousal down to a manageable level. When he's no longer right on the brink, but back down to a pleasant rolling boil, he sits back on his heels to find Lance regarding him with dopey fondness.  And all at once he feels breathless and halfway to tears, overcome with how much he loves this man. Keith is not an easy person to know, an easy person to love, he knows, and Lance is just so good to him, is so good, so patient, so everything. He wishes he could spend every day like this, doting on and being doted on by this ridiculous, wonderful man.

“Whoa there. You ok?” Lance frowns, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“I just really love you,” Keith chokes out.

“Awww,” Lance coos, blue eyes crinkling around the edges. “I love you too. You doing ok there?”

“Mm.” His eyes drop to where Lance is visibly straining in his sweatpants. “Wanna blow you.”

“You love me and you love my dick, huh?”

“Mm.”

“Jesus, babe. You’re going nonverbal. You sure you don't need another minute?”

Keith takes a deep breath, shakes out his shoulders. “No, I'm good.”

“Ok, I’m but gonna keep opening you up while you suck my cock.” A thrill of heat bolts through him.  “Here, like this.”

Lance lies down with his head propped up on the arm of the couch and arranges Keith how he wants him. The pants come off completely so he can straddle his chest, knees snugged into his sides and facing Lance’s feet. Lance sighs happily, sliding his hands warmly up his thighs.

“Ok seriously man, your ass is out of this world, but your legs are also –” Lances kisses his fingers dramatically. “I bet you could crush a watermelon with your thighs.”

“Uh, I’ve never tried. Maybe?” Keith tugs Lance's sweatpants down, letting his cock spring free. “Is that what we're doing next time I lose a bet? I make you fruit salad using only my body?” He dips to nuzzle the curls at the base and breathes the clean scent of him deeply. Lance has been playing with him for ages, it feels so good to finally touch him back.

“Ok, when you say it like that it sounds weird. But it would be kind of hot –“

Taking his length in hand, Keith closes his lips around the head, then sinks down on it.

“Mmm, you're so good, babe,” Lance sighs, tipping his forehead against his buttcheek, then tilting to kiss him there. He lazily strokes his thighs and leaves a trail of sloppy, sucking kisses and soft nips up the curve of his ass, then takes hold of the base of the plug and fucks it in and out of him a few times.  “I think you’re ready for the next one. How you feeling there?”

“ _Mmhmm_ ,” Keith assents blissfully.  He loves doing this for Lance, loves the musky smell of him down here, the salty taste of his skin, the weight of his cock stuffing him full. They’ve 69’d a couple times before, so the angle is not entirely unfamiliar. And while Lance is amazing with his mouth, he likes this too. Maybe likes it better? It’s too hard to choose. He loves when Lance sucks his cock, too, loves fucking his lean, tight little ass, loves playing with him, but, god, _Lance_ playing with _him_ , using both his holes at once – 

The blunt tip of the biggest plug kisses cold against his hot flesh, then pushes in with aching slowness. He stretches. Stretches to accommodate the larger toy, stretches his lips around the hard cock in front of him, trying to notch the tip into his throat when he pushes down, slurping wetly when he pulls up.

His own cock and balls feel so full and heavy, hammocked in the mesh. He can feel his hole gulp rapidly open and closed around the abrupt swell and taper of the plug, and Lance’s touch burns wherever it goes – the side of his knee, his calves, his soft inner thighs. Keith scoops his hands under Lance and grabs a double handful of firm ass himself, kneading a little and hoping he’s making Lance feel even a fraction as good as he does.  In a dreamy haze he follows the rhythm Lance sets, speeding up to follow when Lance fucks him faster, automatically slowing when Lance does, losing himself in the sensation, in his bubbling arousal.

Lance laughs.

“I found your remote control,” he observes, speeding up his pace again. Keith rolls his eyes, but can't help the smile curling his lips around Lance's cock. He plays along, bobbing faster to match.

“ _Ahhh_ , Keith. You know you're actually dripping through your underwear? Shit, that’s hot,” Lance sighs, hips hitching slightly. Keith sucks harder in response, swallowing around the head. “Ah, I’m getting close, baby. I wanna put another load in your trunk.”

Keith _whines_ , unbelievably turned on despite the ridiculous phrasing. He pulls off with a filthy pop and gasps out, “Yes, yes, I want that too –”

He scrambles to the other end of the couch, spreading his thighs and arching his back, _presenting_ for him. “Come on, Lance, _give_ it to me.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Keith,” Lance growls. Keith can hear Lance shifting quickly behind him, feels his warm palm land on his hip. Feels the plug wiggle, bulb briefly grazing his prostate with a shock of pleasure. It comes out easily, he's so loose now, soft and sensitive. Feels the nudge of Lance's cock, the fever-warm slide of the head just inside. Feels the tap of Lance's hand as he jerks himself off.

Feels the burning hot spurt of him in his ass, for the second time in as many hours.

Lances stoppers his hole with the pad of his thumb as he pulls away then slips the largest plug back in without resistance.

Keith is panting, rolling his forehead back and forth on the arm of the couch. Lance massages his ass for a moment, squishing his cheeks together and spreading them wide again like he’s a plaything.  Fingertips brush around the swollen rim of his hole – it feels huge, somehow, obscenely exposed and oversensitive, and those light touches have his cock twitching desperately. The mesh of the jock strap feels painted on, soaked through with sweat and pre and clinging to his flesh. He’s never been so turned on in his life.

“Lance,” he croaks. “I’m ready.”

“Nnnooo, you’re not, sweetheart,” Lance says, probing where his rim meets the plug. “We’re gonna work up to it.”

Christmas has been cancelled forever, the sun will never rise again, the world is ending.

“Please, Lance, _please_ …”

His begging is sharply interrupted by a stinging smack to one asscheek.

“No,” Lance says firmly. “You’ve been a brat and tried to control this scene all afternoon. You’re going to do what I say, you’re ready when I say you’re ready, you’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re going to stay like this, with your pretty ass up for me, and watch another episode of Star Trek while I fuck you with this toy.” He pauses. “Unless you want to tap out, which obviously you can at any time because consent is sexy –”

To his mortification, Keith actually tears up, eyes hot and welling. “Ok,” he says, but it comes out pathetic and cracked.

“Hey now.” Strong arms wrap around his chest from behind, lifting him back to kneel cradled against his boyfriend’s chest. Lance lifts Keith’s hand, closes it around a glass of water. “Here, drink some of this. You’re doing so good, babe. You’re good.” Lance’s broad, long-fingered hands stroke his belly and sides as he obeys.  He didn’t even realize he was thirsty until the cool water soothes his throat.  “Good.  Now do that leg-tensey thing. You remember that trick you told me about? How your giant muscles get all the blood from your boner or whatever?”

“Quads, hams, and glutes are some of the biggest muscles in the body,” Keith gets out, unable to help going into trainer lecture mode even like this. “Diverts blood from the penis if you contract them.”

“Ah, glutes. The bubble butt muscle.”

He leans into Lance and clenches his thighs as ordered. “Not a bubble butt.”

“You know I tried that when we went to the beach a while back? You were so sexy in your little shorts I popped a semi during our volleyball match. All I remembered was you saying that you tell people to clench if they get hard at the gym to get it down, so I’m trying to clench my butt real hard, and Pidge –  stop laughing – Pidge is like what are you doing? Are you doing male kegels in the middle of sand volleyball? Why –”

Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he giggles breathlessly, arousal subsiding slightly but the warmth and pressure in his chest cresting like a wave, bowling him over with the intensity of his own feelings.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You can do this, I know you can. You’re the strongest person I know.” Lance holds him, rocking a little.  “You ok? Still want to keep going?”

“Yeah.” Keith tips his head back to bury his face in the crook of his neck. “Love you.”

Lance laughs into his hair, hugging him tighter. “You get so sappy when you edge. That, and when you’re drunk. New theory: you get drunk on horniness.”

“Drunk on you.”

“Sap.  Ok, drunkie, I’m tipping you over, hang on.”

Keith lets Lance drape him over the arm of the couch again, rubbing his sweaty face into the cushion. He can do this. He wants this, he’s going to push through. Breathes in, holds it, lets it out for slow counts. He wants to come _so bad_ , but he’s going to endure until Lance says.

There are gross slicky wet lube sounds behind him for several seconds, and then Lance pulls out the plug again.  Fingers push in testingly in its place. Keith thinks it might be four, maybe even his thumbtip too, but he’s so oversensitized he paradoxically is having a hard time processing what exactly he’s feeling down there other than heat and pressure and pleasure. He endures it. Breathes again, feels the huge rounded tip of the dildo pressing, slowly pressing against the resistance of his loosened entrance. Feels the sudden pop of the head, the flare catching his rim.  Keith sucks in a sharp breath.

“Does it hurt?” Lance asks immediately.

“Stings a little. It’s ok.”

“You tell me if you feel any sharp pain or like anything’s tearing.”

“Mhm. S’good.”

He slowly relaxes, surrendering to the intrusion as Lance thrusts it gently – shallowly at first, then in lengthening strokes. Every ridge plucks at his rim like a guitar string, leaving him humming. And then there’s a drawn-out, dragging push, that feels like it must be most, if not all of it.

Keith can't hold in a long, cracking cry. “Easy, babe,” he hears Lance saying, hand steady on his hip. It doesn't hurt, exactly – but there’s deep almost-ache twining with the syrupy pleasure. The biggest plug was almost this thick at its widest point, but only about long as his palm from neck to tip, and tapered. The dildo is much, much longer, an almost unbearable heft and weight that demands all his attention. Despite not aiming at it, the toy puts a dull, unrelenting pressure on his prostrate through sheer size. He’s been hard off and on for over two hours, he's got two loads of Lance's cum slicking him up, and he's so full. Fuck! He's _so full_. This is the biggest thing he’s ever taken, bigger than any of their other toys, bigger than Lance’s cock, and Lance thinks he can take this and _more_.

“Lance,” he cries, voiceless and shaky, twisting his hands in his own hair, _writhing_ in place. “Oh god, Lance, _please_.”

Lance's hands are on him immediately, petting and supportive. “I got you babe, easy. You're doing great. What do you need?”

“I’m good,” Keith sobs, because what he needs is to come, but he’s being good and he’s waiting. He’s waiting. He can wait. He can do this.

“You ready for me to thrust?”

Keith folds his arms around his face. Breathes. “Yes. Please.”

* * *

 

Man, Keith is taking this beast of a toy like a champ.

He’s a sobby wreck of a champ, but still.

Occasionally he makes a creditable effort to hump back against it, but mostly he’s just bracing, thighs trembling and hands clenching and unclenching on the arm of the couch. The way he's bent over the arm with his ass up and shirt rucked up to his underarms showcase the curve of his spine and swell of his cheeks beautifully. Lance plunges the dildo in and out at a steady clip, pausing to push the cum back in when sticky globs of it get fucked out.

He doesn’t have quite the stamina he used to but he thinks he might manage to get it up a third time and dirty Keith up all over again – if this view doesn’t do it for him, nothing would.

When the slide of the dildo has become nearly effortless, and then a little while after that, Lance pulls it out.  The shiny, swollen rim twitches and gulps hungrily at the loss.  Lance presses his fingers together and tucks his thumb against the pads, testing them against Keith’s gaping entrance.

“Ok,” Lance says, eyeing the stretch of Keith’s rim around his pinched fingers. “I think we’re ready.”

“…Thanks,” Keith croaks.

Lance bites back a laugh. Objectively it’s hilarious that his boyfriend is _thanking_ him for wrecking his asshole three ways from Sunday, but Keith is probably not in a state of mind to take it well if Lance teased him right now. Instead he leans over to grab the biggest plug back off the coffee table and slip it into that clutching hole.

“Think you can stand or should I carry you?”

Naturally, Keith insists that he can walk but ends up leaning heavily on Lance the whole way, a limping waddle on legs as shaky as a newborn calf’s. With care Lance helps him onto the bed, tucking a towel under him.  He's drenched in sweat, hair sticking to his face and teartracks down his cheeks, and his hands keep jerking like they're automatically straying to his straining dick before he catches himself. Fondly, Lance sits on the edge of the mattress and leans over to kiss him.

“Hey,” Lance says, nudging their noses together. “You’re doing great, babe. I’m going to wash my hands real quick before we get started. Think you can get naked for me?”

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, clinging to him like a baby sloth. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“You gotta let go for a minute first. I’ll be right back, ok?”

“Yeah,” Keith says again. 

“And don’t touch your dick!”

Lance dashes to the bathroom, scrubbing his hands and arms up to the elbows and running his thumbs over the edges of his fingernails.  He trimmed and filed and doublechecked them earlier, but better safe than sorry. If he hurt Keith through being overeager and careless he’d never forgive himself.  He hurries back, pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out of his sweatpants as he goes, throwing them aside to deal with later. 

Keith managed to do what he said.  Now completely naked, he’s leaning back on one hand with a knee up, watching Lance grab the towels and gloves and tub of lube gel with hooded eyes, pulsing at the base of the plug in his ass with two fingers. His weeping cock is nearly purple against his belly.

God, what a trooper.

Lance crawls over him for a kiss. Keith responds desperately, stops playing with himself to hook an arm around Lance’s neck and licking in like he wants to devour his soul through his mouth. But he calms when Lance pulls back and presses a kiss to his forehead, letting out a long, shaky sigh.

“Turn over for a minute,” Lance says softly, and Keith quirks a smile at him, rolls over and pops his ass up wordlessly.

He’s gotten a heaping eyeful today, but Lance is never going to get tired of this view. As much as he digs the jock strap, he loves this too: uninterrupted skin flushed and gleaming with sweat, the swell of those rounded cheeks flaring from his trim waist, cock and balls hanging heavy between his thighs, rim velvety around the big black knob of the buttplug. He pulls the base and that red ring parts effortlessly around the widest part of the bulb like a stage curtain. His over-worked hole shivers and flutters, gaping open slightly even with nothing to hold it. A bubbly pearl of white drools out. Lance hooks three fingers in and curls them, scooping out frothy globs of lube and cum and letting them ooze down Keith's balls, smearing the mess onto his sweat-sheened thighs.

Keith’s legs shudder with the effort of holding still for him. “You’re so good, babe,” Lance says, and pushes lightly on his hip. “Back on your back, sweetheart, I wanna see your face.”

Lance tugs on the glove, letting the latex snap against his arm as Keith shakily gets situated, pulling up his knees and spreading his thighs wide. At Lance’s urging he rocks his hips up briefly so they can stick a towel-covered pillow under his ass. Lance nestles comfortably between his legs and unscrews the tub of lube.  “Grip the sheets above your head there, babe,” he orders. “You ready?” 

Keith does as he says, breathing deeply and making the same concentrated face he does when he’s about to add more weight to his last set while lifting. “Yeah.”

He takes four gloved fingers easily. Lance curls them deliberately against his prostrate now after mostly ignoring it for the afternoon.  “I’m gonna make you come now.”

“Oh yes, _please_ ,” Keith keens, tossing his head back and grinding down against his hand desperately. “Please, Lance, wanna come so bad, please –“

“As you wish,” Lance croons. He draws tight circles against the slight bump of his prostrate with two fingers, reaches up with his other hand to cup his balls, rolling them gently in his palm – and Keith immediately goes off like a supernova.

A jagged wail tears out of him, back arching in an impossible curve while he quakes through it, ass clenching and flexing around Lance's fingers. Lance can actually see the base of his cock flexing and working. Sticky white ropes arc to splatter his belly and chest, all the way to his collarbone.

Lance is frozen with his hand still lightly cupped over Keith’s spent sack. “Oh my god. I didn't even get to touch you. You just fucking came untouched. _Dios mio_.”

“Ahahaha,” Keith laughs helplessly, throwing an arm over his eyes as his hips keep rolling. A couple more spurts drip down his cock. “I've been wound up all _day_ now, what do you expect.”

“All day?! It’s been a couple hours!”

“Haha, sorry.”

“Fuck! Don’t apologize, it was really hot! A testament to my totally rockin’ skills in bed.”

He gives Keith a moment to recover, kissing and petting his thighs as he tremors through his aftershocks. He’s pretty sure that Keith asked to wait at least in part because he likes edging himself, but it was definitely a good idea. His entire body has gone absolutely boneless, a puddle of satisfied boyfriend.  Once he’s ready Lance goes slow, scooping up dollops of lube and smoothing it thickly over Keith's inner walls, occasionally sticking in four fingers and stretching them apart as wide as he can. Satisfied, he finally tucks his thumb against his palm, tip pressed to the base of his middle and ring fingers; slowly slides in til he meets resistance with the knuckles of his fingers just outside, and pauses. Keith is doing what Lance recognizes as a breathing exercise, slow counts in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“How you doing, babe?”

Breathes in, breathes out, eyes closed and brow scrunched in concentration. “Good.”

“Hey, relax, ok? Relax your face, relax your arms.”

His brow unfurrows and fists unclench in the sheets, deliberately melting down.

“Good, you're doing good.”

Lance pulses his hand in and out slightly. “You know the first time I admitted to myself I admired you? Like just...admitted you were cool, without being all jealous and mad about it?”

“ _Ahhh_ ,” Keith tosses his head as Lance twists his hand in a small, deliberate motion. “Um...uh? I don't know? The... Allura's party? New Years party?”

“Nooo, _that's_ when I admitted to myself – or, well, everyone else anyway –“ (he’d gotten shitfaced and ranted loudly to Hunk about it in earshot of the entire party, is what) “ – that you were hot despite the mullet. Before that.”

“Before? …I, ah, I, I don't know, Lance...”

“Remember when Shiro convinced us to run that half marathon? Or, rather, the time Shiro convinced _you_ and you challenged me?”

“Fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Keith’s eyes fly open and stare up at the ceiling like he’s questioning Lance’s sanity. “I was – _haaah_ – " he squirms as Lance twists his hand in a little further, “ – sick as _dog_!”

“Yeah you were,” Lance says fondly.

Had he ever been. He'd been just getting over the flu. Shiro had tried to convince him to pull out or at least take it easy, but changing Keith’s mind once it was made up was like trying to move a mule that was actually a cleverly disguised _statue_ of a mule carved from the bedrock it stood on.

“You looked like shit,” Lance chuckles. “And sounded like shit, jesus. But you kept going. I was totally healthy and still dying and ready to quit, and there you were, totally miserable, wheezing like you were _actually_ dying and dripping snot everywhere and you just kept going.

“It was insane,” Lance goes on, keeping a watchful eye on Keith's face for any sign of pain. His knuckles are almost in, now, squeezed tight by that grasping hole. “I would never have finished without you. At first I was like... ‘I can't let my rival beat me even when he's _sick_!’ But the farther we got, I just...I was just impressed. God, you were so... _fucking_ impressive. I love that about you. Your drive to finish everything you start. You were incredible.”

“Lance,” Keith breathes, gazing at him through slitted eyes that glitter in the shadow of his lashes. He's red and sweaty and spent, cum drying on his belly and slathered over his thighs, stretched to his limits. He's never looked so beautiful.

“You _are_ incredible,” Lance says earnestly, and then he's done it. The thickest part of his hand is in, and the rest is pulled into that sucking grasp until the swollen rim is hugging his wrist, blush-red around black latex.

Lance is officially fisting Keith.

“Oh my god babe, you did it. You're doing it.”

“ _Haah_.” Keith stares at him like he’s realized he’s under a microscope. “Oh my god.” He gasps and arches as Lance experimentally curls and stretches his fingers in the vise grip of his boyfriend's ridiculous body.

“I wanted to do it with you,” Keith blurts, strained.

Lance frowns curiously at him, applying more lube to his wrist and forearm. “...This? You wanted to try fisting?”

“The race,” Keith gets out. “I probably wouldn’t have finished either or even done it otherwise – I knew – Shiro wanted to beat his last time, he was gonna be way ahead. So I thought – you and me were, we were – kind of friends, but not really, and I thought if we did something together, just us – ”

“Jesus, Keith. You're insane.” Lance wants to kiss him so badly, but he really doesn't want to jostle him too much like this, wrist deep in his gut. “You don’t even like running. I _hate_ running. We both threw up afterward!”

“It was – a bonding experience!”

Unbelievable. Lance giggles helplessly into Keith’s gross, sticky thigh. “Oh my god, Keith.”

“It worked!”

“I can’t argue with that,” Lance says, looking back at him adoringly. “You’re crazy. And I love it.”

Lance curls and uncurls his fingers a few times, stroking Keith from the inside, then makes a soft fist with his thumb tucked and starts pushing in.

He can’t make his mind up what’s more riveting, Keith’s avid gaze or his smooth, taut hole stretching around his arm. Around his _arm_. Fuck, part of his arm is _inside of_ Keith. The pressure is crushing.  His walls are elastic pulled taut around the intrusion. It’s one thing to look at rainbow-colored anatomical diagrams of human organs to research what he’s getting into, and another entirely to feel the blood-hot heavy pulsating around his hand and arm and _sense_ how close he is to vital and terrifyingly vulnerable organic parts that help form this man he shares his life with. He could hurt Keith so easily and so badly like this, but instead of anxious he feels fiercely protective, like he has something precious and defenseless cradled in his palms, like he’s rock-certain he could and would do anything to keep it safe.

They’ve fucked and made love a dozen different ways but this is the most intensely _physical_  thing he’s ever done during sex.

Keith seems to agree. “Lance,” he sighs out rapturously. “You’re so deep. You’re sooo… _oh_ , oh.” His eyelids flutter like he’s ascended to a higher plane, every exhale a breathy moan.

“How’s it feel?” Lance asks, mesmerized.

“Like…I don’t know. It’s so… _much_.” He tucks his chin to his shoulder, gazing at Lance with eyes that are startlingly dark and intent despite how zoned out he seems. “Like you’re part of me, love.”

And isn’t that the truth of it? He might be lodged into Keith’s deepest parts in a literal way at the moment, but Keith has burrowed his way just as deep inside his cracks and crevices, into his heart and his lungs and his bones, shoring up the holes and making him stronger; the first thing on his mind in the morning and the last thing he sees at night.

Lance is now certain he’s going to come again, rutting into the mattress lightly, and he’s determined to bring Keith with him. He dips down and takes his mostly soft cock into his mouth. He licks at the bitter and salt and sucks him gently to full hardness while curling his hand inside him, drilling his prostate mercilessly. Keith comes weakly with an exhausted whimper.  Swallowing, he lets him down carefully, kissing the base where it softens quickly against his belly.

With infinite care Lance pulls his gloved hand out, and pushes up onto his knees to admire his handiwork. 

“May I?” Lance asks, gesturing to his flushed cock.

“Anything you want,” Keith says softly.  And as much as he likes looking at it, that amazing ass and the total slutty mess he’s made of his entrance, Lance finds himself captivated by Keith’s gaze. Dark and deep as the ocean but soft, adoring, meeting his – Lance comes for a third time into the hand that was just inside of his lover, sighing his name into the gentle crest.

Not a bad way to spend an afternoon off.

“Lance…please.”

“Yeah baby? What do you need?”

“Come up here.”

Lance peels off the glove and goes, falling into Keith’s open arms and welcome kiss. Curling a leg here, wrapping an arm around there, Keith gradually twists him practically into a fullbody lock without ever breaking the kiss, like he’s trying to make them one, like he wants to hold every part of him at once. And also a lot like an aggressively cuddly octopus, if Lance is honest.

Lance asks, “How do you feel?”

“Honestly? Kind of empty. And like my butt will never be the same again.”

He can’t help but giggle at that.  Lance and strokes down his back and into his crease, gently hooking a couple fingers into his loose, sloppy hole and stirring them idly.

“But also amazing.”

Lance smiles, pressing his forehead to Keith’s. “You _are_ amazing.”

Keith smiles back at him, a rare sweet smile. “You’re amazing. _Today_ was amazing. …Thanks, for all this.”

“How’s _that_ for a bonding experience.”

Keith smothers his laughter into his chest.


End file.
